Wharton smiled indulgently, as he might have if one of his children said something hopelessly idealistic. "And you think a kiss can do that?"
Dave made his voice lower and harsher. "It's Saturday night, Albert. Picture this: all over America, young black men are wondering whether to go out tonight and start fires and smash windows, or kick back and stay out of trouble. Before making up their minds, a lot of them will watch Dave Williams and Friends, just because it's hosted by a rock star. How do you want them feeling at the end of the show?"
"Well, obviously--"
"Think of how we built that set for Percy and Evie. Everything about the scene says that white and black have to be kept apart: their costumes, the roles they're playing, and the counter between them."
"That was the intention," said Wharton.
"We emphasized their separateness, and I don't want to throw that in black people's faces, especially not tonight, when their great hero has been murdered. But Evie's kiss, right at the end, undermines the whole setup. The kiss says we don't have to exploit one another and beat one another and murder one another. It says we can touch one another. That shouldn't be a big thing, but it is."
Dave held his breath. In truth he was not sure the kiss was going to stop many riots. He wanted the kiss left in just because it stood for right against wrong. But he thought maybe this argument might convince Wharton.
Caroline said: "Dave's so right, Dad. You really ought to do it."
"Yeah," said Edward.
Wharton was not much moved by his children's opinions, but he turned to his wife, somewhat to Dave's surprise, and asked: "What do you think, dear?"
"I wouldn't tell you to do anything that would harm the company," she said. "You know that. But I think this could even benefit National Soap. If you're criticized, tell them you did it because of Martin Luther King. You could end up a hero."
Dave said: "It's seven forty-five, Mr. Wharton. Charlie Lacklow is waiting by the phone. If you call him in the next five minutes, he'll have time to switch the tapes. The decision is yours."
The room went quiet. Wharton thought for a minute. Then he got up. "Heck, I think you might be right," he said.
He went out into the hall.
They all heard him dialing. Dave bit his lip. "Mr. Lacklow, please . . . Hello, Charlie . . . Yes, he's here, having dessert with us . . . We've had a long discussion about it, and I'm calling to ask you to put the kiss back in the show . . . Yes, that's what I said. Thank you, Charlie. Good night."
Dave heard the sound of the phone being cradled, and allowed a warm sense of triumph to suffuse him.
Mr. Wharton came back into the room. "Well, it's done," he said.
Dave said: "Thank you, Mr. Wharton."
*
"The kiss got huge publicity, nearly all of it good," Dave said to Evie over lunch in the Polo Lounge on Tuesday.
"So National Soap benefited?"
"That's what my new friend Mr. Wharton tells me. Sales of Foam have gone up, not down."
"And the show?"
"Also a success. They have already commissioned a season."
"And all because you did the right thing."
"My solo career is off to a great start. Not bad for a kid who failed all his exams."
Charlie Lacklow joined them at their table. "Sorry I'm late," he said insincerely. "I've been working on a joint press release with National Soap. A bit late, three days after the show, but they want to capitalize on the good publicity." He handed two sheets of paper to Dave.
Evie said: "May I see?" She knew Dave had trouble reading. He handed the papers to her. After a minute she said: "Dave! They have you saying: 'I wish to pay tribute to the managing director of National Soap, Mr. Albert Wharton, for his courage and vision in insisting that the show be broadcast including the controversial kiss.' The nerve!"
Dave took back the paper.
Charlie handed him a ballpoint pen.